The State Of Being Loved
by Kiri-Kay
Summary: Ottawa- otherwise known as Jacqueline Williams- is tired of Matthew's family being oblivious to his pain- his blooming relationship- is feelings. So, deciding to take them to a cafe where her Country tends to sing at, she shows them what they've been skimming over, & how much hidden hate & pain can build- with only a song. -ONESHOT-


_**So. I had another plot bunny. Anyway. Jacqueline is my Ottawa OC & Alec is my Alaska OC. It's Yaoi BTW.**_

**_Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia or the English lyrics to Bad Apple which were made by Cristina Vee (thats her name right?)_**

_Matthew singing_

* * *

America fidgeted nervously. Jacqueline - no, _Ottawa_- had called for him urgently, telling him to meet her in his brother's home in the Capital. Currently, he was in the living room with a high-strung Francis & pacing Arthur.

"Do you guys know what's wrong?" Alfred asked finally.

Francis shook his head. "_Non_ [No], Jamie just called me & told me to come quickly." He barely took notice of the pet name for the Capital Representative.

"Same here." Arthur murmured, unsettled. Jacque- Christ, _Ottawa_- didn't particularly like any of the three of them. She hated France since the October Crisis, she hated England for using her beautiful country as a replacement & then ignoring him, & she hated America for both trying to burn her down once & for also ignoring Canada.

She got along just fine with London, Paris, & Washington D.C. though. Actually, she was friends with all of the World's Capitals.

Suddenly, the front door opened wide, two figures entering. One was a girl with long black-as-night hair that curled at the ends with dark purple eyes that held traces of ruby. The other was a tall male with white-blond shaggy hair that brushed the back of his shoulders & light blue eyes. He had a thin scarf around his neck that reminded everyone of Hipsters.

"Alaska? What're you doing here?" Alfred asked his Northern State incredulously.

"Jamie invited me over. We were going to try some magic together with Nunavut & Uncle Canada." He said lightly, walking in & towards the back of the house. "I'll take care of Kuma while you're out."

"Heh, thanks, Alec!" Ottawa cried out. Turning towards the three nations in the room, her gaze darkened. "Come. We're going out."

Francis stood, knowing how testy Jacqueline could be but obviously, Arthur didn't.

"I refuse until you tell me what is going on! What's wrong with Matthew?" Arthur asked, walking up to the petit girl.

Jacqueline laughed hollowly. "Do you remember when I asked the same exact question years ago? And we argued until Matthew entered, stopping you from slapping me? Well, there's no Matthew to save you now, so don't fucking try me, _vous donzelle_ [you wench]."

Silence weighed heavily in the air. "Hypocrite, now why don't you _shut the hell up_ & _follow me_ if you really want to know."

The trip made by foot was silent also. Jacqueline walked ahead, leading the men to a café with time-weathered red-brick walls. Inside the walls were a soft mocha colour & red worn booths lined the walls. Round silver tables with chairs that had swirled backs were speckled across the wooden floor.

The glass door, announcing different activities in Ottawa, jingled merrily as the four entered. Directly across from the doors was a nice marble counter top where a girl was speaking in rapid Quebecois with another girl. Her head snapped up. Excusing herself, she turned her attention to Jacqueline.

"Ah, why hello, Jacqueline! You're a bit early for Matthew's performance." The girl whose name tag said 'Leslie' cried out.

"Ch'yeah." Jacqueline responded. "I just invited some friends of Matthew's. Yanno, those close like family but not really?" That statement rang in the air, burning the blonde trio's ears.

"So," she continued. "This is Alfred, Arthur, & Francis."

After introductions were done, Jacqueline settled in one of the booths farther in the back. On one side sat Arthur & Alfred & on the other Francis & Jacqueline.

"Now," she said softly. "Look near the front. There's a stage. See if you can recognize any faces."

Alfred was the first to see him. "_That's Russia_! That _Commie Bastard_ I'll-!"

"No, you won't because look harder."

"_Mathieu_[Matthew]. . ." Francis breathed gently, fingers lacing together.

"_Oui, Matthew a trouvé la chaleur et l'amour que cela. . . famille était censée donner de l'un des plus froids nation dans le monde- qui est plus que disposés à partager_ [Yes, Matthew has found the warmth and love that this. . . family was supposed to give from one of the coldest Nation's in the world- who is more than willing to share.]" sighed Jacqueline, fingering the scarf around her neck. It was still Autumn & even if it was just starting, the air would nip coolly at your skin.

"What do you mean 'more than willing'?" Arthur asked.

"Ah, well they've been crushing on each other for longer than I can remember. When Ivan-ah, maybe I'll tell you later- but long story short, Matthew confessed in a flurry & Ivan accepted. He was happy." She shrugged. "Matthew gets loved like its nobodies business by the way. Ivan is constantly showering him with hugs & kisses & gifts- just anything Matthew needs & everything he wants. All he asks for in return is to be loved unconditionally, but _mon petit garçon doux_ [my sweet little boy] is always trying to go above & beyond.

"But still, he struggles with a bit of depression & has bouts of self-consciousness. When the really bad hits come Ivan tries to lift him up but usually he just has to sing them off. It works all the time. Ivan doesn't like the songs, being as sad as they are, but he understands & we attend together. He's singing today & I just thought you'd like to hear it. It's called 'Bad Apple' & truly think this would be dedicated to how you three make him feel."

Just then a man hopped on stage. "Hello, I hope you're ready. Our first singer is Matthew Williams, & he will be singing Bad Apple. Please give him a round of applause."

Polite claps rang around the dimly lit café as spotlights shined upon the blonde on stage. Matthew's hair glowed a faint yellow & his lilac irises seemed a bit dull. The music started, the techno, dance beat thrumming through the air & instantly catching attention. He started.

_Ever on and on I continue circling_

_With nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony_

_Till slowly I forget and my heart starts vanishing_

_And suddenly I see that I can't break free-I'm_

_Slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity_

_With nothing but my pain and the paralyzing agony_

_To tell me who I am, who I was_

_Uncertainty enveloping my mind_

_Till I can't break free, and_

_Maybe it's a dream; maybe nothing else is real_

_But it wouldn't mean a thing if I told you how I feel-_

Francis flinched involuntarily at this point making a pained face.

_So I'm tired of all the pain, of the misery inside_

_And I wish that I could live feeling nothing but the night_

_You can tell me what to say; you can tell me where to go_

_But I doubt that I would care, and my heart would never know_

_If I make another move there'll be no more turning back_

_Because everything will change, and it all will fade to black_

_Will tomorrow ever come? Will I make it through the night?_

_Will there ever be a place for the broken in the light?_

_Am I hurting? Am I sad? Should I stay, or should I go?_

_I've forgotten how to tell. Did I ever even know?_

_Can I take another step? I've done everything I can_

_All the people that I see I will never understand_

_If I find a way to change, if I step into the light_

_Then I'll never be the same, and it all will fade to white_

Music played, the upbeat music not betraying the lyrics that remained teetering between sadness & anger. Jacqueline spared a look to the blondes. Francis looked miserable, Arthur seemed shocked, & Alfred was frowning in disbelief.

The two part chorus repeated, setting unease into the three Nations.

The next line seemed to be the breaking point.

_If I make another move, if I take another step_

_Then it all would fall apart. There'd be nothing of me left_

_If I'm crying in the wind, if I'm crying in the night_

_Will there ever be a way? Will my heart return to white?_

_Can you tell me who you are? Can you tell me where I am?_

_I've forgotten how to see; I've forgotten if I can_

_If I opened up my eyes there'd be no more going back_

_'Cause I'd throw it all away, and it all would fade to black_

Matthew had left some people crying, Francis included, while others sniffled, trying to preserve their pride. As Matthew left the stage, claps rounded the room, causing the pale boy to blush a furious red.

"Gah, Ivan!" he murmured bashfully as his boyfriend clapped the loudest.

Ivan stood, pulling Matthew in & giving him a soft kiss. The crowd chanted an 'aww~' of delight in seeing such a sweet display.

Matthew's face was on fire when he sat down again.

"See?" Jacqueline murmured. "The affection which you never gave him after he became England's charge is being given now. But I guess it's better late than never."

Standing & stretching, Jacqueline didn't look back as she walked towards the counter where Leslie stood, unoccupied.

"So, lemme guess," she said. "Francis is France, Arthur's England, & Alfred's America?"

"Ch'yeah." Jacqueline muttered, leaning on the cool counter.

"Pity ya hate all of them, they're not bad looking."

"They're not but they're all douche canoes & jack-asses. Pardon my French."

Leslie simply chuckled.

* * *

**_So? I just got bored & yeah this happened. Leave a review!_**

**_~Muaa_**


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